


yes it's you i welcome death with, as the world caves in

by gryjoy



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fiona Gallagher Being an Asshole, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Possessive Behavior, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecurity, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, NaNoWriMo 2020, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Protectiveness, Terry Milkovich's A+ Parenting, Touch-Starved, Unsafe Sex, Zombie Apocalypse, enemies to allies to friends to lovers, implied virginity, its my fanfiction i choose the speed it escalates at, no im not okay, stupid bastards, this fanfic is in spite of jellyfish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryjoy/pseuds/gryjoy
Summary: There’s something about winter, maybe its the snow, the quiet, or because it keeps the dead away, that Ian likes — its been two years since a virus devastated the United States, maybe it was on accident (but most likely not). Ian and Mickey meet again after they’ve been exposed to their new dead life, ready to tackle the road ahead.If they can.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from as the world caves in matt maltese
> 
> each chapter gets a song ( feel free to ignore it )
> 
> the story is 52k words and under editing , im also not done with it yet but this will not stay as a wip forever bc i would cry
> 
> please if there are any mistakes tell me because i wrote this in less than a month
> 
> theyre not called zombies ,, i think i would die if they were
> 
> also im cutting each chapter into 5k-10k , originally one of the chapters was 37k , i wont do that to you ,,, will be updating whenever i finish editing parts
> 
> the prologue is only 1.5k bc its a prologue
> 
> happy valentines day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prologue , takes place two years before the events of the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter song -
> 
> [ contrast and compare ](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=u-hXjNDI9Hs)  
> so i drift through these days  
> of appointments and promises made  
> they’ll all end up broken and quickly

When everything started there were a few telltale signs. Ian remembers seeing birds going ape shit in the parking lot of his school, biting and squawking at each other or anyone that dared to come near, standing their ground.

When Ian was in class the teacher had to put on a video about nothing in particular before going into the hall to talk to someone on the phone. The sirens going by seemed impossibly loud and too frequent to be a minimal accident.

“What do you think is going on?” Mandy had asked, not bothering to whisper since the video playing went unnoticed by students laughing about what they were planning on doing that summer.

Ian shrugged leaning down to open his backpack that sat undisturbed on the carpeted floor, “hell if I know,” he pushed back some of his books and loose pens looking for the small planner he uses for school, “shit I think I left a notebook at home.”

“You’ll live,” Mandy said dismissively, leaning back in her chair to stretch her arms up and yawn, "Mickey had some girl over, Christ he likes screamers,” she made some mocking pornographic moans before fading into laughter.

Ian snickered at her comment as he closed his bag and pushed it under his desk, "you're always welcome to stay with us,” he meant it when he said it.

Mandy let her hands fall to the desk, "no it's okay, it's just something he does once in a while," they both watched as some teachers rushed down the hall, "wanna come over and play some Mario Kart? Terry got some tater tots we can cook up."

A loud bang can be heard in the distance, rumbling through the school. Ian and Mandy flinch in unison, all the other students quieting down and standing up cautiously. The bang is followed by the sounds of gunfire and more booms.

The Gallagher and Milkovich stand abruptly and go to the window along with the other students to pull up the blinds to look into the neighboring neighborhood. They could see people running out of their houses to try and get a better look at where the noise is coming from. A police car closely followed by an ambulance, loud sirens and flashing lights passing by at a speed Ian had never seen before.

The sound of the overhead speakers clicks on, "hello students and staff. We will be having a half-day due to recent police activity in the area. Students, please inform your parents or guardians about our current schedule, please refrain from walking home, get a ride with a friend,” he started listing off things for the staff to do letting Ian tune him out.

“You need a ride?" Mandy asked pulling out her phone texting someone.

"Uh, yeah, sure, thanks," Ian said watching her type away with thin fingers with dark polish, "who's going to get us?"

She's silent for a moment before she hit send and looked back to Ian, "Mickey, he'll just take Iggy's truck," the Gallagher nodded before laughing.

"Since when does Mickey have a phone?" Ian knows he's not supposed to ask where Mandy gets the money for utilities or even her own phone, but he knows Mickey would never take money from his sister, no matter how much of an asshole he was.

"It's not his phone, it's the house phone he, Iggy, and Colin share," she said looking back down at her phone when it buzzed with a response, "alright he's on his way."

"You tell him he's got to pick me up too?"

Mandy scoffed, "fuck no, he would pretend to be asleep and not see it."

Ian smiled and scoffed too, "yeah, probably," he moved to grab his bag from under his desk.

When the bell rang to release them as they flooded into the hallways, teachers were herding them like mindless cattle to the bus lots and student parking.

"Wanna go to the pool this summer?" Mandy asked as they passed by their English teacher, following the staff's instruction of being careful.

Ian just laughed, "yeah sure, can’t wait to get smothered,” Mandy bumps his arm with her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," she dismisses as she looks down to her phone, "Mickey's in the parking lot, said to 'hurry my ass up'," she said mocking her brother.

Mickey had dropped out of school his senior year without telling anyone, just stopped showing up one day, everyone was surprised he even made it to senior year. Always paying kids with money, drugs, or both to do his homework and class assignments, the bare minimum to pass. All the teachers were relieved when they called his name and a pen or pencil wasn't thrown their way, finally now only having to deal with Mandy who wasn't as devilish as the rest of her family.

"Wow, you sounded just like him," Ian snickered with a half sarcastic tone.

"Whatever," Mandy said with a smile, no malice behind her words.

They got to the parking lot, having to push past kids who stood in the way looking for their parent's car.

Iggy's truck used to be a beaten-up piece of shit, but Ian gives the brother kudos for the revamp he did. Repainted and new tires, no longer leaning towards the passages side.

But the car here was taking up two spaces, parked horizontally and in an inconsiderate fashion. Mickey sat with the driver door open, some AC/DC song Ian didn't know, playing at a loud volume. He looked up to see his sister, face smug, ready to make a joke, before it falters when he looks at Ian, "the fuck is he doing here?"

"We're giving him a ride," Mandy said moving to the passenger door with Ian behind her.

"We ain't giving him shit," the older boy said slamming the driver door shut, watching as Ian climbed in to sit on the center console while Mandy sat in the parallel seat, "aw, come on man," he swatted hard at one of Ian's legs when it brushed his, "keep to your side," he said before mumbling, "Jesus."

Mandy groaned, "be nice."

Mickey ignored her as he put the car into drive, hating how the inside of his wrist bumped the ginger's knee. The jean texture scratchy.

He pulled out of the parking spot, cutting someone off as he got in front of them, the mom flipped him off, so he mirrored the action, "yeah, fuck you too," he said to no one in particular, but Ian flinched ever so slightly. He had gotten used to Mickey's presence, actions and words, had seen his soft side when Mandy was crying over the boyfriend that hit her, but none of those soft, sweet actions were ever directed towards him, the boy's harsh words still making him wary if he were allowed to speak of breath.

Mickey didn't bother to slow down when they entered the school zone, not that it mattered much since most people seemed to want to leave as soon as possible. There were some kids walking home regardless of what the man over the speakers said, they didn't seem to care.

Ian adjusted his legs so it was resting against Mandy's, knowing she wouldn't mind, trying to situate his long legs without bumping into Mickey again.

"Jesus, Gallagher," Mickey groaned rolling down the window as he put a cigarette between his lips, "quit squirming," he reached across Ian and Mandy, pushing open the glove compartment and taking the lighter out. Ian tried to sit back, looking down at the raven-hair, unruly and dirtied from whatever work he had gotten that week. Mickey pushed the compartment back and slowly lit his cigarette, not looking at the road.

"Jesus, Mick, watch the fucking road," Mandy scolded swatting at Mickey's shoulder, Ian could see pale sunspots and freckles there.

"I am!" he mumbled blowing the smoke out the window. Ian's eyes never left Mickey's nimble fingers as they twirled the stick between his fingers absentmindedly. When the older boy came to a sudden stop, with no slow down, Ian hit his head on the roof of the car, hand flying to support himself on the dashboard, "almost got your boyfriend killed there,” Mickey laughed earning him a smack on the leg from Mandy.

Sometimes Ian wondered if people suspected him and Mandy weren't _actually_ a couple. Sure, Mandy and he held hands sometimes, and it was nice, but it was always when they were going somewhere with her friends or sometimes down the halls at school, but they never really kissed. The occasional brush of lips on cheeks, but the touches were always fairly platonic.

They drove in silence for a while until Mickey stopped at the start of Ian's block, "get out," Mickey said blatantly, gesturing towards the passenger door.

Mandy rolled her eyes and opened the door letting Ian crawl over her, "call me later, yeah?" Mandy questioned holding Ian's wrist.

"Yeah," he nods letting her turn his head to kiss his cheek.

"Say hi to Debs for me," she said patting his shoulder before closing the car door. Ian's eyes flickered to meet Mickey's for a moment before the older boy turned to look in the opposite direction.

"Later guys," Ian said waving to them as he started to jog down the street. He looked back momentarily to see the truck disappear behind a house and a few purposely placed trees, never to be seen again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter song -
> 
> [ _**oak island** _ ](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UuL1Xrdqj5s)  
> coughed up my future  
> and i made a map  
> buried the evidence  
> somewhere on oak island

There are many things Milkovich's aren't. They aren't short. They aren't bitches or pussies. They take it like a man when getting beaten up. And they definitely do not cry.

And Mickey Milkovich is definitely not crying. He isn't a pussy.

He shoves the keys in the ignition feeling it purr to life. Blood gushing from his shoulder seeping through his favorite cargo jacket and possibly staining it. It’s only a flesh would but, fuck does it hurt.

He pushes the pedal down as far as it will go, gripping the wheel until his knuckles were ivory. The headlights illuminating the street that lays under the midnight sky. As he drives out of the devastated garage of what was once a nice house, he runs over something that makes the car give a violent shake. It's a fifty-fifty on whether it is one of the dead from when they first found the house or if it is Terry Milkovich.

Either way, the bastard is most definitely dead.

Mickey drives through the gated community unintentionally knocking over mailboxes and street cones. It was a nice place on the northside even when it's overgrown with vegetation and one of the houses is collapsing from rot.

Mickey lets out a shaky breath trying to stop the tears threatening to pour down his cheeks. Mandy's probably dead. Terry's probably dead. Iggy, Colin, his other brothers are all probably dead.

He can feel his body shaking ever so slightly as his vision turns blurry, "fuckfuckfuck," he whispers in a pathetic voice. He's _not_ a fucking pussy.

He turns the corner hard, hearing the wheels scrape against the road. His breathing is rapid, and his heart is beating so fast and loud he can't think or feel.

The gate comes into view, a few dead lined up against the fence scraping and clawing at it trying to find food as it becomes more and more scarce, for dead and human alike. There is only a padlock and chain separating Mickey from the cannibalistic creatures with dead eyes.

Mickey brings a hand to wipe away a stray tear as he goes faster and faster towards the gate, bracing himself for the impact.

And he feels nothing.

The car bursts through the gate with a loud bang, pieces of chain hitting the car window, scratching the hood of the car. He doesn't stop, he keeps driving, ignoring one of the dead that somewhat resembles Mandy.

They had a plan for Florida. Made it all the way to Indiana instead. He had an uncle there whom he had never met that let them stay a couple of months at the beginning of everything. But of course, his father fucked it up and they had to leave. They were there when the government was bombing the West Coast. He remembers the feeling in his stomach as he watched the news: a hopelessness, a dread that still lingers with him even after two years.

They had been staying in the gated community for a few months, it was quiet and easy to not worry, easy to ignore his father's relentless words and abuse when he smoked out in the community's rotting garden. The only quiet place where he was allowed to think.

Mickey doesn’t stop driving. He can’t. The adrenaline is the only thing keeping him afloat at this moment. He can see spots in his vision from the blood loss and the steady decline in adrenaline, but he ignores it as he turned a corner.

There are vines climbing up the sides of houses and buildings, over abandoned cars, some blackened from fire.

He doesn't slow down until he starts to recognize the houses and streets, the adrenaline coursing through him declining at an even quicker pace, making him tired and his head feels unbelievably heavy.

Mickey's attention is drawn to a dim light of a candle a couple of blocks away, like a moth to a flame he goes towards it.

He doesn't like meeting people during this _thing_ going on, they always try to steal, kill, or rape, not necessarily in that order, but he doesn't have a choice. The car has filled with the smell of copper from the shoulder wound which can become catnip to the hungry dead presumably under cars and houses waiting for the faintest noise or smell of something to eat.

He slows down even more dodging one of the broken-down cars that lie barren in the middle of the road.

He stops the car at the end of the road observing the house, there is an RV out front, and cars purposely pushed as a barrier in the middle of the road. There is a figure sitting on the roof, two candles next to them, and a bright cigarette in their hand.

The Gallagher's.

He was brought to the Gallagher's.

He lets his head fall onto the wheel closing his eyes momentarily. He thinks about turning around and leaving, finding a nice quiet place to die. He'd rather do that than ask for help.

But he doesn't have the chance.

Mickey’s brain turns off sending him into a forced slumber from the blood loss and sudden adrenaline drop. His foot falls heavy onto the petal sending him into a dumpster that was placed in front of the Gallagher house.

Ian flicks open the lighter cap, spinning the small wheel trying to get a flame to appear, "dammit," he swears under his breath doing the same movement a few more times which rewards him with his desired flame.

Ian brings the flame to the cigarette that limply hangs from his lips. As the harsh smoke fills his lungs, he sighs recapping the lighter and pocketing it in his jacket.

It has been getting colder and colder as winter approached. The year prior it was a lot colder than before the end. Lip theorizes it was from the lack of pollution and the lack of food to keep their bodies going.

Lip has taken up knitting, making the beanie Ian is wearing along with scarves and an abandoned sweater he got too frustrated to finish.

Ian takes a breath of his cigarette, watching as the smoke escapes his lips and nose into the cold night sky. It is barely illuminated by the candles next to his chair. Fiona complained when Ian used flashlights and the makeshift lanterns on his night shift. And Ian always has the night shift.

Now, Ian doesn’t hate the night shift. It gives him a few hours of quiet from nine to twelve with a few candles and a pack of cigarettes he tries to only smoke at night.

He takes another inhale of his vice turning his head upward towards the bright stars in the sky and watches as the smoke from his lungs escape into the night air. The stars are a lot brighter than before and it has become a kind of comfort.

Ian sighs, his head falling back down as he lets his mind wander. That's what it normally does. He remembers when Monica and Frank left when it all started, one last hurrah in end times, leaving three kids to be raised by three other kids. Lip swore he would kill them both if they ever came back. That was two years ago, and they never came back.

Ian yawns looking down at his dully lit, cracked watch. It is only eleven and there has been no sign of anything, dead or alive. It is the same as last winter. Ian guesses it’s the cold that keeps the dead away, but it doesn't keep them all away.

They never left their house, staying in the same neighborhood. They had fortified it during the summer pushing cars into a wall-like fort in front of the house. Lip and Ian had gotten some boards from the Milkovich house creating a crosswalk from their house to Jimmy-Steve's old house. They had also taken any remaining guns from the Milkovich house as a last resort, but they never used them and Fiona hid them away.

Ian isn't sure what happened to the Milkovich family. Last he heard Terry dragged his kids to Florida. He doesn't doubt they made it, or at least he doesn't doubt Terry made it. The man would be willing to kill his kids if it meant he lived.

Ian takes a deep breath of the cold air, pinching the cigarette harder between his fingers as he does so.

He moves to put out his vice when he hears a loud bang, there was a car pushing up against one of the barricades. Ian drops the

cigarette lowering himself off the edge of the house and onto the overgrown grass below.

They had talked about this, if anyone comes turn out any lights and hide. That has been a rule since day one. And Ian just broke it. It is different, this person might be hurt, not trying to kill them, even so, there is no movement in or around the vehicle.

Ian takes the knife out from his back pocket and squeezes between one of the barricades to the outside. He has been outside the barricades before, but never in the dead of night. _Never_ at night.

Ian looks around to see if the crash drew any unwanted attention before bending down to look under the car. He has to make sure there isn't anyone there waiting to jump out and there isn't.

He moves around the front to open the driver's side door catching the body that slumps towards him, he instantly could feel the thick blood on the man's side seeping through his fingers.

He drags the body back a bit looking into the car seeing nothing, no weapons, no supplies.

Ian leans down and picks up the body, slinging the shorter man over his shoulder. He backs towards the barricades, being careful not to hit the man into the thick metal.

Ian can see his youngest siblings looking at him through the window while Lip and Fiona approach him, both bundled in clothes and blankets.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Lip asks in an angry whisper, moving to the side to let Ian pass.

"Car accident," he says walking up the steps, pushing the door open with his foot, "get the first aid kit, anything," he doesn't say it towards anyone in particular.

Ian drops the body onto the couch pushing down one of Lip's maps. He pushes back the blood-soaked cargo jacket and pulls the man's shirt over his head when he finally sees who it is.

Mickey.

Mickey fucking Milkovich.

Mickey Milkovich lays unconscious and shirtless, torso covered in blood and abdomen wrapped in bloody ace bandages, pale bruises peeking up from under them.

"Holy shit," Lip says approaching with the first aid kit and rubbing alcohol.

"Yeah," Ian responds in an exhale that came out in a chuckle.

He takes the materials and is suddenly aware of his younger siblings watching him, he looks at Lip and nods towards the kids.

"Uh," Lip thinks for half a second before turning to the younglings and clapping to try and draw their attention, "bed. Now."

The younger Gallagher’s linger a moment before Debbie picks up Liam and makes her way up the stairs with Carl close behind, each too tired to protest.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Fiona's voice suddenly asks with the front door shutting hard behind her as Ian opened the kit to retrieve a needle and dissolvable thread, Ian hadn't realized she had been outside, probably making sure there is nothing coming for them.

"He is hurt, Fiona, he is unarmed and has _nothing_ with him," Ian says, he doesn't like Mickey being there just as much as Fiona or Lip does. Fiona pinches the bridge of her nose before disappearing up the stairs to deal with this all in the morning.

He pushes the thread through the needle placing it on top of Mickey's abdomen before retrieving the alcohol, he knelt down practically sitting as he uncapped the liquid, "Lip, hold down his shoulder," he requests putting a hand on the older boy’s chest, he watched Lips hand be hesitantly placed on Mickey's shoulder.

Ian leans forward and pours the liquid over the wound; Mickey's body jerks and his face goes askew but he doesn't seem to wake up. Lip retracts his hand and hands Ian the bandages.

He takes the needle from Mickey's stomach replacing it with the bandages. He leans forward again to examine the wound, a bullet must have torn through the man's flesh, luckily seeming to go straight through.

Ian pushed the needle into the pale flesh doing the best he could not jam it in at the awkward angle from lack of proper needle. When he finished, he bites the thread to break it trying to ignore the bitter taste of blood, "pull him to his side," he instructs Lip who did as he is told. Ian stitched up his back shoulder biting the thread again then grabbing the bandages wrapping up Mickey's arm.

Ian pats Lips hand watching as he slowly lowered Mickey onto the couch. The older boy looks thinner than Ian remembers, there was a soft outline of ribs and his eyes were slightly sunken in. When was the last time he slept? Last time he ate?

"Help me get him up the stairs," Ian says placing the needle and remaining bandages on the coffee table.

"Where are you going to put him?" Lip questions helping Ian pick up Mickey so the bandages go untouched.

Ian holds Mickey bridal style, moving around the couch, "my bed, I'll sleep on the couch," he slowly walks up the steps, being careful not to knock Mickey's head on anything. At the top of the steps, he's careful not to trip over anything that lays on the ground.

Ian turns to the side as he walks through the doorway to his, Carl, and Lip's room. He lowers Mickey onto his bed pushing the blanket back as he does so, "what are we going to do with him?" Lip asks softly sitting on his bed.

Ian sighs, pulling the blanket over Mickey's sleeping form, "I don't know," he rubs his face with his hand, "let’s get some sleep first, how about that?"

Lip nods laying down on his bed with his back towards Ian. Ian turns to make sure Carl is asleep which he is.

He looks towards Mickey again. What the hell happened to him? What the hell happened to Mandy? Ian sighs and bites his bottom lip as he examines the sleeping boy's face. His hair is slightly longer, with choppy bits in the front and on the sides indicating he tried to cut his own hair. Ian takes a mental note of that, when Mickey wakes up, he'll offer a haircut. He then observes a fading bruise under his eye on his cheekbone and a hint of stubble. He's a mess.

Ian forces himself to leave the room to make his way downstairs and on the couch. He lets out a sigh letting his head fall into his hands. He couldn't sleep. Not yet at least. He has an hour left of his watch shift left so he stalks off toward to door to get back on the roof.

When Mickey opens his eyes he immediately goes into flight or fight. He jerks his arm at the feeling of a blanket on his flesh. Where is his shirt? His hand goes to the wound on his shoulder surprised to feel bandages.

Mickey pushes the blanket off his body, slowly pulling himself off the mattress. The last thing he remembers is crashing and... His thought process stops when he sees a picture of the Gallagher's hanging on the wall. Ah shit.

Mickey stands wobbling, he grasps onto the dresser next to the bed taking the pocketknife that laid on top of it. He lets go of the dresser but ends up falling, hitting his injured arm on the mattress edge, "FUCK!" he practically yells clutching his upper arm dropping the knife in the process.

He hears quick walking and Mickey just wants the floor to swallow him whole.

The door opens to reveal the redheaded Gallagher with a face of worry that Mickey hates with every fiber of his being. He lets go of his arm and quickly grabs the knife holding it up to the Gallagher trying to be threatening but his shaking hand proves it's anything but.

"Mickey, you need to put the knife down and let me check your stitches," his voice is calm and sure, like he's approaching a hurt animal. That's what Mickey is. A wounded, helpless bird.

Mickey blinks a few times, taking a deep breath trying to calm himself down as he drops the knife and accepts Gallagher's hand to pull him up and push him on the bed.

"Why am I here?" Mickey's voice comes out in a raspy whisper and is dripping with a vulnerability that makes him want to kick himself.

The redhead’s hands are suddenly on him and it's all too much, "crashed your car a few days ago," Mickey tries not to lean into the feather-light touch to his wounded shoulder.

A few days?

The Gallagher pulls away and it took everything in Mickey not to cry at the absence of warmth. He hates how small he feels. He's hungry, tired and it's too much to be taken care of.

"Mickey, where is Mandy?" The Gallagher kneels in front of him with worried eyes.

"I don’t-I don't know," Mickey says biting the inside of his cheek. He can't remember, he genuinely can't.

Ian sighs and stands, moving to open one of the drawers. He throws some clothes next to Mickey, "you should get into something, there's a cold front starting."

Mickey turns to look at the clothes. A band shirt from something he doesn't recognize and a thick jacket with dark colors and darker stripes. He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Mickey watches as the redhead leaves the room closing the door, leaving it ajar as he does so.

He turns again to the clothes and grabs the shirt pulling the surprising soft material over his head, he stands again this time with more balance. He's still wearing his pants, but his shoes had been discarded at the end of the bed. Mickey takes the jacket and pulls it onto himself as he slowly walks towards his shoes. He sits at the edge of the bed pushing his boots on glad they're still double knotted.

The inside of the jacket is soft as it rubs against his skin, almost like a security blanket.

Mickey stands and limps slightly to the door but stops when he hears whispered arguing.

"-He can't stay here," he believes her name is Fiona.

"Yes, he can, he can sleep in my bed and I'll take the couch, he's hurt, Fi," the redhead states back.

"We don't have enough food and you know it," Mickey can hear her sigh, "unless you and Lip plan on going on another run, there won't be enough food with him. You and I both know we have barely enough as it is, we should have started that garden back in spring."

"Mickey can have my rations for the week, Fi, he looks like he hasn't eaten anything in weeks, Lip and I can go on a run and find something."

"Something where? Something where, huh? Lip told me how hard it has been for you to find food the last few months."

"Then we go towards the city, we can take Carl with us, he's been _begging_ to come with-"

"Carl will _not_ go with you, _ever_ , do you under-"

Mickey pushes the door open feeling uncomfortable by easedropping. Both Gallagher's turn to Mickey. The eldest sighs and points at the other, "figure it out," she walks away and disappears down the stairs.

The younger rolls his eyes before giving Mickey his attention, "how're you feeling?"

Mickey shrugs, "tired, my shoulder hurts," he pauses, "where are my clothes?"

"Downstairs, I did my best to wash the blood out of the jacket and shirt but there will probably be a dark spot around the shoulder for a while," Gallagher responds moving out of the way, "come on, let's get you something to eat."

Mickey doesn't have a snarky response ready, he's so physically tired and weak he needs some food, "okay."

He lets Gallagher help him down the steps and into the kitchen. He does his best to ignore the curly-haired brother.

Gallagher - no, _Ian_ \- pulls out the chair for Mickey and helps him sit down. Ian moves into the kitchen opening one of the cabinets and pulling out a box with ‘ **IAN’** written on the side in large letters. He watches as the younger boy retrieves what looks like a twinkie and a bag of chips.

Ian puts the box back and closes the cabinet before approaching Mickey and setting the food in front of him, "it's not a lot but you've been asleep for a couple of days, so you need to pace yourself."

Mickey looks down at the food, mouthwatering. He can't believe he used to chase Ian and beat the living hell out of him. It feels like decades ago.

He wonders what Mandy saw in him. Sometimes he saw it, but he didn’t like looking too much into it, not liking the feeling when he did. Not understanding the feeling when he did.

"Thanks," Mickey whispered taking the Twinkie and opening the packaging to take a bite of it. He audibly moans shoving it all in his mouth as he does so.

His eyes meet Ian's who had a fond smile, "what?" Mickey asked with his mouth full.

The curly-haired Gallagher lets out an exaggerated sigh as he stands from the table, "Jesus Christ," he leaves out the back, taking the shovel that laid on the wall next to it.

Ian pushes the bag of chips towards Mickey who takes it placing the wrapper of the Twinkie next to it.

He opens it and is greeted by the smell of salt that made him smile. He eats a few chips in silence avoiding Ian's eyes.

"You want me to cut your hair?" Ian asks suddenly. Mickey stops eating and looks up at the redhead running a hand through his raven hair feeling the difference in choppy short bits and long bits making him nod.

Ian abruptly stands walking around the counter opening one of the drawers retrieving a pair of scissors and a knife.

"What's the knife for?" Mickey instantly becomes defensive, ready to deck the Gallagher despite his hurt shoulder.

"Stubble," Ian says calmly bringing a finger to tap at his own cheek as he approaches Mickey. He places the knife in front of the older boy showing him it’s all okay.

"Don't go too short," Mickey requests in a soft tone.

"I won't," Ian reassures running his fingers through Mickey's dirty hair, "we can wash this when we're done."

Mickey nods and remains still when Ian pushes his hair to the side. Mickey suppresses the hum of approval as Ian massages his scalp.

Mickey is jerked out of a trance when he hears the clip of scissors and watches as a strand of hair falls to the ground. They stay in comfortable silence with the sound of clipping fills the air. Mickey watches as his dark hair falls into thick piles on the floor.

Mickey dozes off for a moment and is snapped into reality by Ian's hand under his chin tilting his head up.

"I'm going to shave you now," Ian explains reaching over Mickey to grab the knife, "nice and slow, all right?"

Mickey's breathing quickens and he can feel his heart beating faster, Ian rubs his thumb over Mickey's pulse point, "you trust me, yes?" Mickey pauses at Ian's question.

No? Yes? What is he supposed to say? He was always such a dick to the younger boy. He doubts Ian trusts him so why would he trust Ian? A part of him wants to. A part of him really wants to. He's so tired of relying on himself, he wants someone to rely on without worrying they will use it against him. So, he does. He trusts him.

Mickey nods earning him a smile from the freckled boy above him, "good," Mickey feels something wet and cold against his cheek.

"The fuck..?" Ian puts a finger under Mickey's nose. The older boy is treated to the sweet smell of tea tree oil, "oh."

"No shaving cream and this works for me," Ian remarks continuing to rub the oil into Mickey's skin.

The older boy feels the cold press of metal against his jaw making him squeeze his eyes shut. There is a smooth cold glide but there is no pain. No sting.

"There you go," Ian praises in a soft voice as he moves the knife to Mickey's throat pulling it upward. The older boy sighs glad he hasn't been cut open yet. Mickey opens his eyes to look at Ian. Red hair has fallen over his forehead, freckles sprinkling his face.

There was a slight tingling from the oil, making his skin feels like it was vibrating almost imperceptibly.

He feels the press of the knife but this time he doesn't feel threatened when the blade goes over his adam's apple and over his chin to his bottom lip. He likes the way Ian's fingers tilt his head and the gentle press of his finger along his jaw.

When Ian finishes Mickey brought a hand to his newly shaven cheek liking the feeling of smooth skin under his fingers. He runs the fingers up through his hair surprised at how smooth it feels compared to how it was, "how-"

"Who do you think has been cutting everyone's hair around here?" Mickey doesn't have to look at Ian to tell he's smiling.

Mickey smiles too.

Mickey is surprisingly good with Liam. Ian can tell Fiona hates having the thug near their younger brother, but she never says anything and Ian is grateful.

He turns when he feels a tap on his shoulder, "I gotta talk to you," Lip says taking a few steps back so they were in the kitchen, "it's been a week, E, it's getting colder and colder and it's not stopping," Lip crosses his arms and leans against the sink, "we need to go into the city," Ian goes to speak, to remind his brother what Fiona had said but is stopped but Lips hand, "I know, okay, I know, but at the rate we're going... and now with Mickey," he sighs collecting himself and lowering his voice, "at the rate we're going now we won't make it to December.”

Ian presses his lips together biting the inside of his bottom lip, "fuck," he says under his breath, "when should we leave?"

"When your night watch starts, we slip out," Lip explains, he pulls out a map from his back pocket with an uncapped pen. He unfolds the map laying it on the table, Lip and his god forsaken maps, "right here," he points with the tip of his pen to where their neighborhood is. It is one of those tourist maps with landmarks and rest stops, "okay, we're here right?" Ian nods, "if we cross over here," he drags the pen lightly so no ink prints on the thin paper to the L and up through the subway where they used to skip school and smoke weed, "we can get to the city here, we don't have to go in deep, just enough so we can get food to last to December ."

Ian rubs a hand over his face but nods, "yeah, yeah, you're right," the last time they went out Lip had made a point to get him his meds, they could possibly get more, not just for the bipolar but also some Advil or Ibuprofen.

"And we take Mickey with us," Lip states as he refolds and repockets the map and pen.

"He can't, he's still healing," Ian protests.

"Look, I get it, okay? I really do, but Fiona will kick him if he doesn't contribute, he'll just be an extra weapon, we'll keep him on the sidelines," Lip explains running a hand through his curls, "I love you man."

Ian smiles, they rarely speak those words but when they do, they always warm his heart, "I love you too."

Mickey smiles at the nonsense Debbie is saying. For a seven-year-old she is already boy crazy, even if her only reference for boys is her Zac Efron and One Direction magazines. She’s painting her nails a pale blue, explaining how Lip got her a big pack for her birthday the previous year.

Debbie Reaches over and takes Mickey's hand bringing the small brush to his index fingernail. He yanks his hand back simultaneously he stops rolling the toy fire truck for Liam, "what are you doing?"

"Daddy always let me paint his nails," Debbie says looking at Mickey with her large doe eyes.

"Well I ain't your daddy, and I sure as hell am not drunk enough to let you paint my nails like a little girl," Mickey responds but immediately regrets it by the deflated look on the girls face. He sighs and puts his hand towards Debbie, turning his attention towards Liam once again, "just don't make me look queer," it's a silly request knowing no matter what color was put on his nails he would look queer.

Debbie takes his hand and carefully brushes the paint over his nails.

Mickey watches as Liam babbles and giggles as the fire truck wheels go over his arm. Liam claps making Mickey chuckle, "oh yeah little dude?"

Mickey looks up to see Ian and Lip approach him, "Debbie, take Liam into the kitchen and feed him," Lip says tapping Debbie on the knee with his shoe.

Debbie doesn't argue, she stands pushing Mickey's now blue painted nails away carefully as she stands to pick up her little brother, "what do you want today, Liam?" The boy babbles happily as then go into the kitchen.

Mickey shakes his painted hand subconsciously as he looks up at the brothers, "dude, you let her paint your nails?" Lip asks with a laugh.

Mickey tilts his head a little to the side, "we'll yeah, she looked like she was gonna cry."

Ian laughs, "you got played, man."

Mickey shrugs pushing himself off the ground so he's standing with the Gallagher's, "whatever, ” he makes a little face, “what is it?"

"We're going on a run tonight and you need to come with,” Lip says, "you just have to come with and carry a knife.”

"What about a gun?"

"No guns."

"Well, why the hell not."

Lip groans, "you're kidding right?" Mickey gives a small shrug, "Jesus Christ, the noise, Mickey! Those fuckers preen at any sound."

"Oh."

"Yeah ' _oh_ '."

Ian cuts in, "look, you're still hurt, we don't have the medication to keep your wound from getting infected."

"You don't need to convince me, you know," Mickey says, "just come get me when we leave alright?" Mickey chuckles, "its weird being here," he looks between the brothers, "kinda miss highschool."

Lip chuckles, "that's because you paid me to write essays for you and everyone was scared of you because you'd kick their asses." Ian smiles and its blinding.

"He's right," Ian says with an agreeing nod.

"Yeah whatever," Mickey says pushing past them both, going to the kitchen, "I can still kick both your asses."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter song
> 
>   
> [ **love in the time of socialism** ](https://youtu.be/3cybcpwEKJo)  
> but i am home wherever you are near  
> there's no life in anything  
> when you're not here  
> who could take my love away?

Mickey tried his best to help around the house and with the youngest siblings, he helped Debbie with her math workbook and Carl with his. He doesn't understand why Fiona is trying to teach them math rather than how to shoot a gun or protect themselves but Mickey can teach them that later.

Mickey would ignore the looks Fiona would send his way, or the annoyed looks Lip would give. Debbie and Carl are indifferent and Liam is a baby. Ian doesn’t seem to mind his presence, Mickey had gotten used to the Gallagher when he and Mandy would lay around on the couch playing video games or doing homework. Didn't stop Mickey from chasing Ian down the school hallways threatening to kill him.

Mickey ignores when Ian let him sleep in his bed one night and all he could smell was the younger boy. It was suffocating in the best and worst possible way. He also ignored when after Ian's night shift he slipped in through the window next to the bed and immediately passed out. The warmth of body heat and the way he could feel Ian's back pressed against his was too much.

He yearned for the touch but also despised it. He doesn’t deserve the warmth so he would go downstairs to sleep on the couch. He wonders if Ian knew what he was doing that night but he never asked and the Gallagher never brought it up.

Mickey likes the atmosphere of the house. He always assumed it would be chaos but compared to the world now it's a lot calmer. There were rules set now to keep them all safe.

**One, any presence of life? Hide.**

**Two, No one out past dark (unless night shift).**

**Three, No loud noises. Four, anything bleeding wrap it IMMEDIATELY.**

**Five, check the radio.**

The last one Mickey never saw. He assumes the radio is in the basement since Fiona would disappear down there for hours at a time. Mickey and the four youngest were not allowed down there. He assumes Lip is the only one allowed since he's seen Lip go down there but not Ian.

After a week he can almost recite everyone's schedule by heart and it's scary. He shouldn't be getting so comfortable. But this compared to what he had been dealing with for two years is such a drastic change. It is calm and collected, unlike his father who seemed to want to attract the dead outside and was pretty much drunk all day.

Mickey had been given clothes from the three eldest Gallaghers, though he could tell Fiona wasn't the biggest fan of giving him clothes. Nor food and somewhere to sleep. But Ian along with the youngest three seem to not mind him being around.

It’s only ten till nine and Mickey sits on Ian's bed watching as the redhead puts a few bottles of water and a notepad with writing Mickey didn't get a chance to read.

Lip comes up the steps with a butterfly knife and a pocketknife, "pick your poison," he says holding the two out to Mickey.

Mickey takes the butterfly knife, closing it, and putting it in the jacket Ian gave him.

"Where's Fiona?" Lip asks Ian in a hushed tone.

"On the roof with Carl," Ian says zipping his backpack closed before dropping it next to Mickey on the bed, "she'll be back in a couple minutes for me to take the night watch," Ian leans against the dresser, "Mickey will go on the roof with me, you need to come get us when you know they're asleep."

Lip nods handing his brother the pocketknife, "hold on," he reaches into his jacket pocket to retrieve his small map handing it to Ian, "remember that shitty little dinner next to the subway?" Ian opens the map and sits next to Mickey so the older boy could see it. Ian nods at his question, "we can just go there, it's close enough to us so it'll be like we never left."

Mickey looks up to Lip, "I thought it burned down," he's pretty sure it did, or at least a building in the area when everything first started.

Lip shakes his head, "no, the laundry mat across the street did."

"Ah."

They all go instantly quiet and still when they hear walking on the roof. The steps retreat and a moment later the front door is opened and closed.

Ian and Lip scramble to push their backpacks under their beds, Lip practically throws himself onto his bed grabbing a comic Mickey has seen him read three times already. Ian lays back on his bed leaving Mickey to sit on the edge idle as the door opens to show Fiona.

"Ian, roof," she says eyeing the redhead. She looks at Lip then Mickey before leaving down the hall and into her room.

Lip snickers closing the comic and lets it fall onto the ground, "we leave in ten," he says standing, “she falls asleep fast,” Ian nods in agreement.

Carl enters the room toeing off his shoes as he climbs into his bunk bed. Lip takes the comic off the ground and hands it to Carl who takes it eagerly.

Ian sits up and pats Mickey's arm for him to stand, "roof time," Ian stands next to the older boy as they both follow Lip out into the hall, "bring the bags into the front when you're ready," he says to Lip. His brother nods disappearing down the steps to the kitchen.

Mickey follows Ian outside, "I'd be better with a gun," Ian puts the latter up against the roof before climbing it.

"Yeah well, you're not getting one," Ian replies as he stands on the roof. Mickey climbs the latter after him accepting the redhead’s hand to pull him up, "here," Ian takes a loose cigarette from his pocket and holds it out towards Mickey who takes it.

"Got a light?" Mickey asks putting the stick between his lips. He follows Ian's movements of sitting down.

Ian hands him a small metal lighter, "gotta flick it a few times to get it to work," Mickey nods and does as he's told, rewarding him with the fire. He maintains the flame as he lights the cigarette that sits between Ian's soft pink lips.

What.

Mickey turns his attention to the silhouette of buildings in the distance, he's sure lots of them are empty or crawling with rotting corpses.

Mickey looks back to Ian whose features are illuminated by the moon and stars. Ian is looking forward, the cigarette between his lips as the smoke escapes up his face and into the cold air.

Ian looks at Mickey and takes the cigarette from his lips so the lay limp between his fingers, "what?"

Mickey laughs taking his own cigarette away from his mouth exhaling the smoke into the pale cloud, "nothing," and that was that.

They sit in silence leaving Mickey's mind to wander. He tries not to let his mind wander, or it'll go to his sister and what happened. He couldn't remember it and when he tried it made his head hurt. He just remembers waking up and Mandy was gone, fresh blood dripping from the edge of the couch, there sat Terry, unharmed and with kitchen knife. The rest is a blur. He can't think, he can't breathe, he can’t-

"Yo, Ian," a voice whispers from below them. Mickey is grateful being distracted by his thoughts.

Ian pushes the burning tip of his cigarette onto the roof tile before looking over the edge at Lip, "come on," Lip says holding up Ian's backpack.

The redhead slides off the roof in a quick movement. Mickey puts out his cigarette and follows Ian off the roof wincing at the overuse of his arm. He watches as Ian slings the bag over his arm and as Lip moves to look through the window for any movement. When satisfied he pulls away and gives a thumbs up.

He follows the brother’s movement as the slip though the barricades, Lip pulls a flashlight from his pocket and clicks the end illuminating the cracked road below them.

Lip hands Ian a flashlight and then Mickey, “try not to use them unless absolutely necessary," he says, "don't need any unnecessary attention."

Mickey nods and follows the Gallagher brothers lead under the L.

There were boards over the windows and spray-painted symbols on them. The Patsy's pies sign was covered in weeds and grass.

Lip goes to the large board that covered the glass door, pulling it with his fingers but to no avail, "get the crowbar from my bag," he says to Ian who does so. Mickey clicks his flashlight on and shines it on the two other boys so they can get a good look at what they're doing.

Ian hooks the metal bar under the board and looks at Lip who's gripping it tightly, "On three," Ian nods, "one, two, three!" they pull the board, and it comes off in a pop. The brothers carefully let it fall to the ground, guiding it so it made no unwanted noise.

There's a crunch and the sound of something swirling making Mickey direct the light in that direction, there was a shadow, but it quickly disappears behind the rubble of the burned down building. Mickey's heart caught in his throat as he retrieves the knife from his pocket.

"Mickey!" Lip whispers, he can tell the Gallagher has opened the door by the sound of the door clicking open, "come on man!"

Mickey stresses his bottom lip between his teeth as he backs towards the diner, Lips hand on his jacket pulls him into the building closing the door as he does so.

"Did you see something?" It is Ian that asks as he takes the flashlight from Mickey's unmoving form. Their finger brush over each other as he does so.

"I don't know, maybe," the older boy says bringing a hand to scratch at the back of his head, "might've just been an animal," hopefully an animal.

Ian reaches over and turn the lock which gives Mickey a sense of protection, "come on, you can help me look in the back," Ian says as he brings a hand to rest between Mickey's shoulder so he can lead him farther into the dark building.

There is a soft glow of light coming from behind the counter where Lip is putting bags of, no doubt stale, chips onto the counter .

Ian clicks on Mickey's flashlight when they enter the back of the restaurant, the redhead puts his free hand on the handle slowly opening it. There was no sign of anything, so he pushes the door open and goes first with Mickey behind him.

When they get father in the small room Ian's guarded posture becomes less tense when they find nothing, "go check the desk drawers," Ian says and Mickey does so, kneeling down to open the drawers.

He looks up when there's a knock on the door frame, "going to the pharmacy down the street, meet back at the house?" Lip asks leaning against the frame. Ian approaches him and hugs Lip patting his back before pulling away.

"Be careful man, see you back home," Ian says with a small smile. Lip smiles back and disappears into the diner. The unlocking of the door and it closing echoes throughout the building.

Mickey went back to rummaging through the drawers. There wasn't anything worth taking so he closes the drawers and looks up at Ian who is opening lockers with the crowbar. He looks concentrated and calm as he pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels and tosses it to Mickey who catches it.

The older boy places it on top of the table and they do that for a few minutes: Ian tossing stuff he finds to Mickey who just barley catches them.

By the end, they have an assortment of things: cigarettes and candy for the most part but also lighters and matches.

Ian places two glasses on the table and Mickey watches as the Gallagher pours the Jack Daniels into them, "Christ I can't remember the last time I had a drink," Ian says as he places the bottle down and picks up a glass.

Mickey takes the glass closest to him and raises the glass slightly towards Ian, "to everyone."

Ian smiles and raises his glass too, "to everyone."

They put the items into Ian's backpack and Mickey helps the boy get it over his shoulders.

"How's your arm doing?" Ian asks as he adjusts the clips on the straps.

"It's sore but the Advil helps," Mickey says bringing a hand to his hurt shoulder.

Ian smiles but it's short-lived when there's a loud bang against the front door. They both quickly move to look through the hallway to see shadow after shadow passing by the front.

"Holy shi-" Mickey is cut off by Ian's hand on his mouth.

"Shh," the redhead whispers pulling his hand away from the raven-haired boy's mouth.

"Holy shit," Mickey whispers, "where the hell did they come from?"

Ian shrugs and grips the straps of his backpack, "I don't know, I've never seen so many at once."

The corpses outside bump against the door and boarded windows filling the dinner with sounds of muffled groans and wood clicking against the glass.

Ian pulls him and Mickey back into the backroom closing the door behind them, "we have to wait it out," Ian says placing his bag on the floor.

"For how long?" Mickey asks watching as the redhead pushes the desk and chair as far up against the wall as possible.

Ian shrugs and sits against the open wall, "fuck if I know," Mickey walks over to Ian and sits next to him, wincing when his shoulder hits the wall.

"Fuck, man," Mickey starts, voice dripping with sadness with the lump in his thought, "how did we get here?" he leans forward and put this head in his hands, "everything is _shit_ ," he jumps when Ian's hand rubs over his back but the younger boy doesn't pull his hand away so Mickey leans into the comforting touch.

It meant nothing. It was nothing. It is nothing.

Ian's hand stopped but his thumb traced circles into Mickey's shoulder. Despite the thick jacket Ian's thumb burned. Mickey wanted, he yearned for the touch, even if it meant nothing. But he wanted it to mean everything.

A few minutes passed and despite dead knocking into the windows and door of the diner Ian's thumb alone could lull him to sleep. Suddenly the thumb stops and it's Ian's hand that's tracing the circles over Mickey's shoulder blades and down his back.

He feels like he's going to cry. His breath hitches and he suppresses the whimper that threatened to escape. For a

moment he can pretend the world isn't in ruins and that this touch is so much more.

No, stop.

This is wrong.

What about Mandy? Mandy, Mandy, Mandy.

She’s Ian’s girlfriend.

Even if she’s gone, missing or worse - Ian is her’s.

Mickey lets out a shaky sigh, his fingers digging into his forehead as he rubs the balls of his palm into his eyes.

Ian's hand pushes its way under Mickey's jacket and shirt, his hand warm and soft as it draws over his lower back. Ian rakes his nails before smoothing over them with the pads of his fingers.

Mickey is sure he's shaking. He's sure Ian can feel him shaking. But the younger boy doesn't say anything. Just continues to rub circles into Mickey's skin.

Ian's hands are so warm and soft unlike the world they have been forced to live in. Mickey lets his hands fall into his lap letting his head fall forward as well. He's so tired. Oh so tired.

Ian's hand is suddenly on his hip pulling the older boy towards him. Mickey straightens and goes to pull away but Ian retracts his hand and puts in on Mickey's head so he has his head resting on Gallagher’s shoulder. It takes everything in Mickey not to curl into the gingers side and cry but he doesn't. Because he’s not a pussy.

So instead he closes his eyes and focuses everything on Ian's reassuring hand.

There was something touching him. Shaking him. All he sees is the dead clawing at him. Ripping into his flesh, the blood gushing over him. It's sticky and warm and he hates it. Then there are tens of twenty hands on him, ripping, clawing at him. He can't, its too much. It's too-

He grabs the hand tightly and clenches his other hand into a fist so hard it hurts, chest heaving.

"Woah, woah, Mickey," his vision focuses and shows Ian holding up his free hand in defense, "it's just me."

Mickey releases Ian's hand and rubs his eyes, "Jesus," he says under his breath.

"It's cleared up outside, we can go now," Ian says in a soft tone. He backs up a bit to give Mickey space.

The older boy pushes himself off the ground not bringing himself to look Ian in the eyes, "how long-"

"It's only been an hour, Lips out front," Ian says moving aside, "come on."

Mickey feels an overwhelming wave of shame. He shouldn't have let Ian touch him. He shouldn't have wanted it to mean more that it did.

Mickey looks at the chipped blue polish on his left hand before walking past Ian not looking at the red head. He can't.

When he looks up through the glass door he can see Lip with a flash light shining in no particular direction. He pushes the door open holding it for Ian who goes to hug Lip, "everything alright?" he asks as he pulls away.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Lip says punching his brother’s shoulder playfully.

He turns his attention to Mickey handing him a small unfamiliar bottle, "anti-inflammatory pills, read the back, tell me if you're allergic to anything."

Mickey turns the bottle over but he can't make sense of the small print. The letters are out of place and in the wrong order but he can’t make sense of them, "uh," he bites his bottom lip, blinking a few times but it doesn't help the jumbled letters.

"Anything?" Lip asks holding his hand out.

Mickey shakes his head and gives him the bottle back, "nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapters gonna be longer ,, ,


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they hook up and find out some troubling news that sets in motion the rest of the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is very horny
> 
> chapter song -
> 
> [tonight i feel like kafta](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=60uAqCzcQao)   
> 
> 
> and it scares me  
> to think that nobody  
> looks at me that way  
> looks at me that way

They were more careful on the way back, being sure to check around corners and down streets to avoid any of the dead that may have staggered from their hiding places.

Ian audibly sighed when the Gallagher house came into view. As they approached it there didn't seem to be any movement within the house, "the horde must've passed here," Lip says as they squeeze through the barricades and into their familiar yard.

Ian checks his watch, "it's almost eleven, I might as well stay on the roof to see if the horde passes by."

Lip nods, "I'm gonna sleep, see you in the morning," Ian hands Lip his bag as the eldest brother makes his way up the steps and into the house.

"You know, you can go inside too, get some rest," Ian says to Mickey .

"Nah, I like the air," he says, it's not a lie, the cold air felt nice and seemed a lot cleaner that it is ever had been.

Mickey follows the redhead onto the roof and sits next to him. They sit in silence looking at the bright stars.

Mickey lays back on the roof resting his hand on his stomach. He lets his eyes close as he takes a deep inhale of the winter air that surrounded the two boys.

"Do you know how to read?" Ian asks suddenly, pulling Mickey out of his calm state.

"What?"

"I saw the way you looked at the bottle Lip handed you," Ian turns so he can look at Mickey.

"I know how to fucking read, Jesus," Mickey said looking at Ian as he says it. There's a soft unjudging look on Ian's face that makes Mickey lose his words for a moment, "I, uh," his voice is soft and pathetic, "I know how to read, Gallagher, but sometimes the words become scrambled when the print is too small," Mickey sighs, "I wear glasses sometimes.." it comes out in a mumble but it doesn't stop Ian from letting out a soft chuckle.

"Mickey Milkocich? Wearing glasses?"

The raven haired boy smiles blindly swatting a hand in Ian's direction, "reading glasses and no I don't wear them, only if I really need."

"Huh," Ian hums laying down next to Mickey.

They both are looking at the stars at this point. They're all bright and all over. Mickey loves it.

"You think we could have been friends before?" Mickey asks softly .

"Are we friends?" Ian laughs.

Mickey can't help but smile, "shut the fuck up, you know what I mean asshole."

Ian sighs, "yeah, yeah I think we could have been friends before."

There's a silence. It's comfortable.

Mickey turns his head to look at Ian. The winter air was nipping at his cheeks making them pink along with his nose, darkening the freckles that lay below them.

Ian turns his head and meets Mickey's eyes, a smile plays on his lips, "what?" Mickey can't take it in him to look away from the pretty boy in front of him.

He leans forward and presses his lips to Ian's hesitantly. Ian doesn't move. He doesn't. Mickey pulls away and instantly stumbles over his words, "fuck, shit, sorry, I didn't- I, uh-"

He brings a hand to cover his face, _fuck_.

Multiple options for apologies come to mind: _I’m just drunk_ , but no, growing up southside Ian would call bullshit, they both know a glass of Jack Daniels would do fuck all for them. _I’m just high_ , also no and pathetic, Ian would be able to smell it on him.

He’s so fucking stupid.

He wishes he could disappear, it would be easier.

“I’m sorry,” it comes out choked. The words feel foregin on his tongue, but he says them anyway, “I forgot about Mandy.”

Mickey lets his hand fall as he looks over to Ian who has an alien look on his face, staring at the raven-haired boy, “Did Mickey Milkovich just kiss me?” Ian lets out a soft chuckle that fills Mickey with anger and makes his heart get caught in his throat.

“Fuck you, dude” Mickey mumbles moving to stand, head already filling with thoughts of leaving, fuck this, as if he’ll embarrass himself for kissing his sister’s boyfriend.

Ian leans forward and grabs Mickeys wrist to stop him, pulling him forward to press his lips to Mickey's. The shorter boy instantly deepens the kiss bringing a shaky hand to gently touch at Ian's neck, unsure if he’s allowed.

Ian is the forbidden fruit that Mickey is allowed to touch. To want to be touched by.

The redhead brings a hand to cup Mickey's cheek as the other goes to hold his hip under his jacket.

Ian pulls away and lets his forehead rest against Mickey's with a breathless laugh, "damn."

Mickey leans up and presses a kiss to the corner of Ian's mouth, he wants, and he wants and maybe he can have. Maybe he is allowed to yearn.

Ian pulls back and lets his eyes travel over Mickey's face, the hand on his cheek gentle as his thumb brushes over his cheekbone and the pale freckles there.

"You look good like this," Ian says raking his eyes over Mickey's face again.

Mickey tries to bite back the smile that forms but he fails, "shut up."

A soft smile forms on Ian's face, the hand on Mickey's waist pushes up the shirt to trace over the soft skin, "you wanna... you know .”

Mickey chuckles sighing into the touch, "I'm always down," Ian rolls his eyes and pulls his hand from under Mickey's shirt to take a small bottle from his pocket. The tea tree oil. "Really?" Mickey asks in a judging tone.

"You want me to dry fuck you?" Ian replies, raising an eyebrow at the shorter boy.

"Who says you're going to fuck me?" Mickey shoots back.

Ian leans over his face, "me," his breath ghosts over Mickey's face, he presses his lips to Ian's who kisses back softly. The gingers fingers move to unbutton Mickey's pants pushing them down just enough.

Mickey lifts his hips momentarily, helping Ian pull down his pants for Ian to rub at his hardening length through his boxers, "fuck," he gasps at the contact.

"When was the last time you did this?" Ian asks, his lips close to Mickey's ear as he dips his hand under the waistband of the boxers to take Mickey into his hand.

"Too-too long," he says in a whisper closing his eyes bucking into Ian's hand slightly.

_‘Too long’_ as in, he’s never done this. _‘Too long’_ as in, he could barely get it off with those loud girls two years ago. _‘Too long’_ as in, he’s too scared to admit to himself this is what he wants.

Ian's thumb brushes over the head collecting the precome already bubbling there and uses it as makeshift lube before he bends over and licks the tip teasingly, "oh fu-ck," Mickey moans out.

Ian laughs before taking some of Mickey into his mouth, swirling his tongue slightly as he does so, "mm," Mickey hums running his fingers through Ian's hair. The ginger bobs his head using his now free hand to push up Mickey's shirt so he can touch the soft flesh of Mickey's stomach. Mickey could come right then and there, Ian's mouth and hand on him was sending his senses into overdrive.

Ian pulls off through making Mickey whine at the loss of warmth but smiles when Ian goes to unbutton and pull down his own pants. Mickey rolls onto his stomach, pulling his pants and underwear down even more, not enjoying the bite of air. He turns his head and watches as Ian takes out his own member, the raven-haired boys mouth waters at the sight of Ian's rather large member .

The ginger takes the oil and puts onto his fingers as he approaches Mickey's lower half. Mickey jumps slightly as Ian's soft fingers trail over his lower back and into the dip that held his most intimate places. Fingers tap at the sensitive ring of muscle making Mickey hum at the sensation. Ian pushes a finger in, testingly moving it. Mickey lets out a soft moan, arching his back slightly.

Ian continues to push his finger in and out enjoying the soft noises coming from Mickey. He pushes a second finger in purposely brushing over the older boy’s prostate as he does so, "Jesus, fuck," he groans when Ian's fingers scissor slightly.

Ian leans over and mouths at the exposed skin below Mickey's ear, "Christ, I'm gonna come," the raven-haired boy moans out. Ian takes this as a message to keep going, pressing his fingers into Mickey's prostate as he nips at the boys neck, "wait, wait, no," Mickey breaths out, "fuck me."

"I don't want to hur-"

"Do it, Gallagher," Mickey demands but it makes Ian's smile. He pulls away and takes his hand back taking a moment to slick up his cock with the sweet-smelling oil. Mickey knows it’ll burn but he doesn’t care. Part of him wants it to burn.

The redhead moves over Mickey's body, pressing the head of his cock to Mickey's hole, he leans over so his chest is to the older boys back, "okay?"

Mickey bites his bottom lip and nods feverishly, "a-okay."

Ian pushes in slowly and the two boys moan in unison at the feeling. When Ian bottoms out, he presses his lips to Mickey's cheek before pressing his forehead to the boy’s shoulder.

He gives a testing roll of his hips earning him a groan from Mickey. The angle of the roof gave him the advantage of brushing Mickey's prostate almost immediately.

Ian starts off slow, holding Mickey's hip while he reaches for the boys hand, after a while he gets a steady rhythm to where each thrust leaves Mickey with his mouth hanging open ever so slightly as small moans and gasps escape him.

It was the hottest thing Ian had ever heard.

He takes the hand from Mickey's hip to wrap around his leaking, neglected member stroking it softly, "fuck," Mickey gasped squeezing his eyes shut, "oh god."

Ian nips at Mickey's ear, "come for me," he says, Mickey's breath hitches at his words, "you got it, God you look so pretty like this," he sucks a spot under Mickey's ear and can feel him stuttering around Ian's cock, so the ginger purposely fucks into Mickey's prostate sending the older boy over the edge. His cock sputters out his release into Ian's hand and probably onto the roof.

Ian rolls his hip a few more times before coming in Mickey. He rocks his hips through his orgasm before he pecks Mickey on the cheek and pulls out.

Ian pushes himself back into his pants hissing at the fabric brushing over his oversensitive member. Mickey rolls onto his back shaking his leg slightly as he does so, "really man?" he asks panting slightly.

Ian smiles at Mickey and watches as the older boy pulls his pants back on, "sorry," he says but his voice is anything but apologetic.

He leans over to kiss Mickey again who pulls away without kissing back, "what?"

Mickey thinks for a moment running his fingers through his own hair as a distraction, was Ian’s and Mandy’s relationship a fallacy? "Nothing," he says giving a smile. He pecks Ian on the lips before scooting farther up the roof towards Ian's room. The ginger sits for a moment unsure what to do but Mickey turns to look at him, "you coming?"

Ian smiles following Mickey towards the edge of the house. He watches as Mickey disappears into the window and onto his bed as Ian follows close behind.

When Ian falls onto his bed, he pulls Mickey's body close to his before either can get the blanket over them. He can feel Mickey pushing his shoes off as he takes the blanket from the edge of the bed pulling it over them.

Ian's hand makes it under Mickey's shirt to lie flat on the boys stomach seeking warmth. The ginger presses his lips to the back of Mickey's neck as a silent _'goodnight'_.

Mickey finds one of Ian's hands and squeezes it before letting his eyes close feeling warmth for the first time since his mom died.

He had turned fourteen before he was sent to juvie for the fifth time.

One of the boys somehow smuggled in porn and distributed it among the group Mickey normally hung out with. And it did nothing for him. He tried to jerk off to the large breasted women, the beige skinned women with doe eyes and the sepia skinned women with distant eyes, none doing anything for him.

That's when he gave up, dropping the magazine to the floor and let his mind wander to the boy that always smiled at him despite the Milkovich trying to portray anything but warmth. He was able to get it up. For a boy.

Mickey had called it a mess up. A mistake. He was a horny teenage boy, that's all. It was just hormones.

The next morning Mickey found the boy who smiled at him, the blonde boy calling him over to play a card game with his friend, but Mickey didn't, part of his regrets it, but he knows he didn't understand why he felt warm looking at that welcoming grin, so he punched him square in the jaw, while Mickey was there for car theft and possession of drugs, the boy was there for minor theft, he kicked him so hard, harder than he needed to, the boy was gasping for air. He got hauled off by one of the security guards, being put in his cell for a few days.

That's when Mickey tattooed his knuckles. Ground up pencil lead and pen ink as he poked his skin. He wasn't a cutter, he wouldn't be able to do that, but poking the needle into his skin, watching the ink stain his once pale knuckles, made him feel better .

He was a _'fuck up'_ so what's the point in forgetting that fact?

When the boy passed him in the courtyard he steered away, pretending to get called by a friend or get distracted by something across the yard. It hurt but Mickey blocked off that feeling. He put up walls, because fuck him. Fuck everyone.

When Mickey got out, he blocked out any possible friendships that extended the occasional head nod or accomplice. He even had pushed away Mandy and his brothers who left him alone, Mandy didn’t though. She kept pushing and pushing. Mickey knew she was just worried. Her brother came back with tattooed knuckles and was hanging around some shady people.

Mickey let his walls down enough for her to climb over, only her being able to stay close and know him.

He kept that dark secret about getting an erection over another boy to himself. Not letting her see that part of him. Too scared of what she would say.

When Mickey wakes up he wasn't jerked away from nightmares or someone shaking him violently. He was woken up by soft lips on the back of his neck and the gentle brush of a thumb on his stomach.

"Mmm," Mickey hums bringing a hand to rub the tiredness from his eyes, "mornin’."

"Morning," Ian responds pressing lips to Mickey's neck again, the hand on the older boys stomach slowly pushes down, fingers teasingly slipping under the waist band of Mickey's boxers and pants. The older boy shoots his eyes towards Carl's sleeping form and then Lip's before turning a head to look at Ian who just kisses his cheek, his hand to rubbing at Mickey's hardening cock.

"Fuck," Mickey whispers bucking his hips trying to get friction from the gingers hand.

Ian takes him into hand as he bites down on where Mickey's neck connects to his shoulder, "like that?" he whispers as his thumb brushes over the slit.

Mickey nods biting back a moan, he grinded back against Ian feeling the boy already hard in his pants.

Ian continues to stroke Mickey enjoying the muffled moans and his shakey breath every time Ian squeezes ever so slightly, "mm," Ian hums into Mickey's ear, "just like that," his thumb presses into the side as he continues to stroke him, "come on."

Mickey bites the inside of his cheek hard as he comes into Ian's hand, "Christ," he gasps out as Ian continues to stroke him through his orgasm. He pushes the taller boy’s hand away at the overstimulation. His pants felt gross and wet causing him to push away from Ian and off the bed.

He looks at Lip and Carl before he strips of his boxers and pants grabbing a new pair from a pile the siblings had given to him, "those are mine, y'know," Ian says pointing to the plaid boxer shorts Mickey pulls on.

"Not as romantic huh?" Mickey laughs pulling on a pair of pants.

Ian sits up putting his weight on his arm, "what do you mean?"

Mickey shrugs as he picks up the dirtied pants and shorts to put into a pile in the corner before leaning against the dresser in front of Ian, "well, like, sharing clothes and such are romantic, but this is more out of necessity than romance."

"We can make it romantic," Ian says with a cheeky grin.

"Would we even be able to? Everything is pretty much dead, we can't really be boyfriend and girlfriend," Mickey says leaning down to adjust his shoes so he can put them on, "not a lot of romance in a dying world."

Ian's smile is long gone, his face now hurt, "no matter the state of the world, we can make it romantic," he sits up now so his back is up against the wall, "and this.. Between us can be more. Despite how the world it."

Mickey looks at him, "what? You gonna take me on a date? Bring me one of those flowers and rent a limo?" Mickey scoffs, "that's pretty faggy," he winces at his own words.

"Yeah, well says the guy with pastel nail polish on," Ian quickly retorts back, "and so what if it's _'faggy'_ , that's not the point," he sighs regaining his thoughts, "and yes. I'll take you on a date.”

Mickey sighs throwing his hands up, "yeah, whatever Gallagher," he says leaving the room. Ian watched as he disappeared down the steps into the kitchen.

"Honeymoon phase over already?" Lip mumbles from under his blanket.

The boner Ian was sporty has long passed giving him no choice but to curl into his bed feeling the fading warmth of where Mickey's body was with his fingers, "shut up."

_Asshole._

Mickey claps his hands together as he entered the kitchen. He pushes down the intrusive thoughts of Ian as he goes to open one of the cabinets. He didn’t have to be such an asshole to Ian, he knows this, but Mickey shouldn’t feel good about himself. It’s not something he should be allowed to feel.

There is a smaller box with Mickey's name on it with snacks that could possibly survive years due to preservatives and every time he saw it, it took everything in him not to eat it all.

He retrieves one of the bags of chips opening it before closing the cabinet. He puts a few chips in his mouth getting distracted by the nail polish on his hand. Ian's right. No matter the state of the world they could make it romantic. But Mickey didn't deserve that. He deserved hard, harsh fucks from strangers who just want to get themselves off, not someone who holds him and makes sure he's taken care of first, someone who wanted to give him the warmth and protection he didn't deserve.

Mickey drops his hand and leans against the counter as he eats a few more chips. But is distracted again, this time though, by a clicking from the basement. He tries to ignore it and continue to eat, but the clicking never ceases. Mickey puts the chips down and walks to the door. He looks around and when he sees no one he tests the doorknob noticing the door is unlocked. He pushes it open and walks down the step closing the door behind him as he enters the very cold concrete room.

"Jesus," he says under his breath bringing a hand up to rub some warm to his arm. As he walks farther in there's a large map on the wall with marker and pen writing. Some buildings and streets circled while some scribbled out. There's clicking again drawing Mickey's attention to a small radio that sat on a desk.

There's a notepad next to the radio with writing Mickey can't make out. He reaches forward and turns the volume up before picking up the headphones pushing one of the parts to his ear.

"-plans of bombing Central America on November fifteenth," the voice is stern, dripping in military restraint, "places where the bombs will drop, the Dakotas, Nebraska, Iowa, Minnesota, Illinois, and Wisconsin," Mickey thought for a moment, brows furrowed as he tried to process. After two years the military is suddenly back? “This message will repeat,” there was a long beep but before mickey can hear the first half of the message the basement door opens and Mickey drops the headphones turning to the noise. Fiona appears with a couple markers in hand.

"You're not allowed down here," she says walking past him to put the pens on the table, "you should go get the kids, get them some breakfast."

"You know, don't you," Mickey says turning to look at Fiona who has yet a to turn around.

"Know what?" she’s tries to be nonchalant but fails.

"Don't play fucking stupid," Mickey puts a hand on his forehead, "you do, you know.”

Fiona sighs, "it’s irrelevant."

"The hell it is," Mickey is on the verge of yelling his words, his voice loud and angry, "how long have you known?"

"That's not-"

"How long?"

"A month."

"A mont- a month?!" Mickey lets out a bark of laughter as he back towards the basement door, "Jesus Christ!" he walks up the steps and into the kitchen.

The fifteenth was only a week away and Fiona has known for a fucking month. What about Lip? Did Lip know? Lip has to know .

Mickey sees red. He swears he sees red.

He quickly went up the steps near the siblings shared room, he pushes the door open and doesn't stop to reassure or look at Ian's surprised expression. Mickey rips the blanket off the curly haired Gallagher and pulls him up by the shirt he’s wearing to wake him up.

"The fuck man," Lip groans pushing away from Mickey. "How long have you known?"

"Dude, chill-"

"The bombs, the military, how fucking long have you known?" Mickey clenched his fist; he was going to punch the bastard. He was going to do it.

Lip rubs his eyes looking to Ian, "don't look at him, look at me," Mickey says angrily giving the eldest Gallagher a harsh shake.

Lip meets Mikey's eyes, "I've only known for a week," he says softly then sighs, "we were going to tell the kids but then you came into the picture and we were going to..."

"Going to what?" they are nose to nose, Mickey is going to rip his head off.

"We were going to leave you behind in the middle of the night," Lip says.

"What is he talking about?" Ian is suddenly next to Mickey looking at his brother.

Lip sighs but Mickey beats him to it, "the military is back in action and they're bombing upper central America, Lip and Fiona know about it."

Ian backs up and covers his face with his hands for a moment, "fucking Christ," Lip and Mickey watch as the redhead leaves the room and the backdoor slamming shut.

Mickey looks over to Carl's bed to see him not there so he takes the moment to hit Lip as hard as he can. The Gallagher falls back onto his bed holding his nose as blood flows through his fingers, "Jesus!" he exclaims pinching his nose to try and stop the blood.

Mickey's hands are shaking as he retreats out of the bedroom and down the steps opening the back door. He lets it close behind him as he walks into the yard. Ian stands in the middle of it, looking up at the blue sky.

The backyard has barricades like the front, large wooden boards with crayon drawing.

"Hey," Mickey says hesitantly as he approaches the younger boy. The sun bleeding into Ian's hair makes it look like fire, he's gorgeous.

Ian turns to look at Mickey and nods, "yeah, I'm fine," he sighs looking at the overgrown, browning grass, "Lip and I share everything, it's stupid that that's the thing I'm more upset about than...” he can’t bring himself to speak the words.

Mickey puts his hand on Ian's cheek to guide the boy so they're looking each other in the eye, "it's not stupid," his thumb brushes over a consolation of freckles on the redhead’s cheek, "I get it."

Ian leans to press his lips to Mickey's who accepts it eagerly. It's a soft kiss. Reassuring.

Ian's hands find their way to Mickey's hair and his cheek. Ian pulls away, "what if we leave right now?"

Mickey furrows his brows, "what?"

Suddenly there’s an excited look on Ian's face, "god, can you imagine? What if we just left? Packed some bags we use for scavenging, and left?"

"What about Carl, Debbie, and Liam?"

"We take them with us of course! Lip and Fiona have been different since it all started, colder, Carl, Debs, and Liam need warmth and protection they can't give them," Ian is now grinning, practically vibrating with excitement, "the car you crashed in last week is still here, when you were out of it Lip took the keys and-and it is in good shape, Mick, it's perfect."

Mickey doesn't have a chance to react to the nickname, too busy processing the redhead’s words, “you know we can’t do that,” he takes Ian's hand into his, "Carl, Debbie, and Liam need a stable family ."

" _We_ can be that stable family," Ian pulls Mickey's hands to his chest, "you have to know this will be the best for them... For us... You want there to be an us, right?"

Mickey opens his mouth but can't think of any words, "I," he bites his lip, he's not good with words. And Christ he wishes he could voice what he's thinking. Mickey leans to brush his lips over Ian's, letting his thumb draw circles on the taller boys’ freckled hand, "yeah," he says in a soft voice against Ian's lips. He isn't sure the boy hears him but then Ian is peppering his face in soft kisses. To his cheek, brow, below his eye, other cheek, and to the side of his jaw where it connects to his ear.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Ian whispers as he kisses at Mickey's neck. He pulls him close, wrapping his arms around the raven-haired boy’s body, holding him tightly. Mickey brings a hand to rub circles into Ian's back.

Ian pulls away and presses a quick kiss to Mickey's lips before pulling away with a large smile on his face. With quick steps he walks past Mickey, "wait, where are you going?" Mickey asks turning around to the redhead.

"To pack our bags, obviously," Ian responds not stopping. Mickey walks after him watching as Ian opens the door and held it open for him, "go help Debbie and Liam pack, I'll talk to Carl," Ian says pressing his lips to Mickey's cheek before disappearing up the stairs.

When he's gone Mickey takes his chips from the counter as he goes up the steps too. He passes Fiona's room and makes eye contact with Ian who sits on the bed with a burgundy bag. He knocks on Debbie's door who opens it almost immediately, "hey, Debbie," Mickey says with a smile.

"What can I do yah for?" she asks retreating into her room, welcoming Mickey in.

He enters, closing the door behind him. Mickey sits on the edge of her bed and watches as the little girl picks up some of Liam's toys to put into his crib, "do you want to know a secret?" Mickey asks, he doesn't really know how to talk to kids but he saw someone do it once on a crime show. Granted it was from a pedophile but hey, they know how to get kids to listen and Mickey needs that right now.

"Sure!" she responds as she tucks in her brother, "I can keep a secret," Debbie turns and sits on the ground in front of Mickey.

"I bet you can," he smiles at her, "we're going on a road trip! Me, you, Ian, Carl, and Liam," Mickey slides off the bed to sit in front of Debbie knee to knee, "but you can't tell Lip or Fiona, okay?"

She nods happily, "okay!" she pauses for a moment, "what should I pack?"

Micky thinks for a moment, "whatever means the most to you and clothes," Debbie shoots him a confused look forcing Mickey to think quickly, "it's a surprise," Debbie's face immediately brightens.

"I love surprises!" Debbie claps her hands.

Mickey pushes himself off the ground, "start packing for you and Liam, remember, Lip and Fiona can't know," he says the last part in a playfully mysterious tone.

Debbie does a zipping motion with her mouth giving the him a thumbs up. Mickey slinks out of the room closing Debbie's door behind him. He walks to Fiona's room seeing no one in there he goes to the boy’s room finding Ian holding open a large bag as Carl was throwing items and clothes in.

"What'd you tell him?" Mickey asks as he sits on Ian's bed.

"Camping, Debs?"

"Road trip."

Ian nods and stands to be in front of Mickey. He puts his hand under the older boy’s chin to make eye contact, "hm?" Mickey hums.

_'You're pretty'_ Ian mouths as his thumb brushes over Mickey's bottom lip. The raven-haired held back the bark of laughter that threatened to escape.

"Oh yeah?" Mickey says with a look of disbelief.

"Yep," Ian says popping the 'p' before biting his bottom lip. Mickey hadn't had sex in over two years, and he assumes the same for the redhead so it's taking everything in him not to jump Ian.

Ian's thumb dips into Mickey's mouth who lets him. Ian's thumb pushes against Mickey's tongue. The older boy doesn't bother to move his tongue or mouth, letting the redhead do as he pleases.

Ian's thumb pushes farther into Mickey's mouth.

"Hey, do you think I need this?" Carl's voice chimed in, both boys forgot about his presence, Ian pulls back and Mickey looks to the bedside table.

"Yeah, pack whatever," Ian says looking at his brother's nun chucks.

Mickey reaches over and takes Ian's medication off the table. It was half full, "you should get the other bottle from Lip," Mickey says looking up at Ian.

"I took it off his bag earlier," Ian says taking the bottle putting it in his pocket as he pulls his hand out he pats his pocket, the air filled with soft clinking, "the front of the car is kinda damaged but it'll still work."

Mickey nods bringing his hand to bite his nail anxiously. Ian pushes his hand away, "you'll ruin the nail polish," he says taking Mickey's painted hand into his.

"I'm sure Debbie will paint them again if you're adamant about it," Mickey says, he goes to pull his hand away, but Ian doesn't let go, petting his thumb over the old tattooed letters on Mickey's fingers.

"Where do you want to go?" Ian lets go of Mickey's hand, moving to sit next to him, "we could go to Canada, Michigan, Indiana, wherever," he closes his eyes momentarily, "man, fucking Canada."

Mickey gives a soft smile wrapping an arm around Ian's waist pulling him close, "fucking Canada."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still got 36k to go ,,, jesus  
> once again as it says in the tags , its my fanfiction i choose the speed at which it escalates

**Author's Note:**

> hey <3
> 
> [carrd ](https://gryjoy.carrd.co/#) || [tumblr ](https://maccreadysimp.tumblr.com/) || [insta ](https://www.instagram.com/spiity/)


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